Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Angel
Candy was right.
Promise has the prettiest little fucking pussy I have ever seen. And I run several of this city’s whorehouses. I’ve seen a lot.
But everything about her is fucking gorgeous.
My balls are so tight, they’re screaming to cum.
The fact that I want to fuck her this bad has my brothers worried. If it was one of them who was acting like this, I’d be worried too.
But I’m not catching feelings. I’m as close to a machine as a human can get. I’ve just always wanted to make a good girl dirty, and I finally have my chance.
Back in high school there were a few girls I chased that looked like Promise. All blonde hair and innocent blue eyes… I guess it’s my thing. Even then, I was rocking tattoos, taller and broader than most of the boys.
I never had to chase for very long, and it quickly became obvious that they were not that innocent.
But Promise…
She’s all that her looks promised she’d be and a whole hell of a lot more.
She’s completely green when it comes to sex, very nervous. She’s compliant too, which I fucking love.
But she’s got a willful streak that I might love even more. It flashes in her eyes when I least expect it.
I’m going to enjoy taming that streak, just like I’m going to enjoy teaching her to be my little sex kitten.
Every time we’re together, I’m going to move the boundary, bit by bit. I’m methodical, controlled enough to use strategy. I was worried she might not move with me, might not want me enough to play my game, but I saw the way she responded when I sucked on her toe.
That doesn’t mean she’s going to be easy. And I’m going to enjoy every second of the struggle.
I lean my head toward my shoulder, cracking my neck, as I acknowledge that my brothers might have a point. I should be thinking about land deals, about Vigo’s enemies, and the men who want to take the throne that should be mine.
Instead, I’m dreaming of burying my cock inside that pretty pussy.
But Promise is more than a fantasy, she’s a perfect path forward. And I am more than capable of managing her and all the pieces of this game.
I kick back in my chair, counting the money in front of me. I say I own whorehouses, and I do. Along with the tire shop next door, several more strip clubs, a few dry cleaners, and a couple of car washes.
All of them are perfect for creating legitimate income out of my actual business. Moving drugs.
The big money is in cocaine, but I don’t like the stuff. First, it brings big busts. But second, it’s the kind of shit that causes major damage. I move weed. A little ecstasy. But I stay away from heroin, meth, and coke. It’s dirty shit.
My primary competitor, Vincent Morelli, loves cocaine, and he sells massive amounts of it thanks to his connection in Columbia.
But I know for a fact that the Feds are sniffing around him. I’d hoped he’d get busted before he called in Vigo’s debt.
And his razor’s-edge business is why several of the other families would support me even though he’s got more money and more soldiers. He’s less stable.
The morning after my uncle died, I reached out to the other heads of family and they all said the same thing.
They’d prefer I take my uncle’s place, but they won’t move against Vincent and actively side with me. Not yet.
I need some advantage, that despite my smaller operation, makes me the better choice. And that’s what Promise’s father has provided with our marriage and the land. It’s right in the heart of all our operations, it touches my domain, bordering Vincent’s as well.
It would give us a common meeting area, construction projects to wash money, and as the section is currently filled with leased projects, anyone wanting to deal in them, including Vincent, would have to come through me.
I finish counting and move to the task of allocation through the various businesses. Some of the other bosses have accountants who take care of this aspect of the business, but not me.
I was excellent in math while in school. And I’m a quick study with law. But most of all, if no one else touches the money, there is no trail and no leak for me to worry about.
I keep my business tight.
Rock had a problem with drugs and girls a few years ago. The deeper into the coke he got, the looser his tongue became.
We locked him in the basement and cleaned him up. Told him the truth. He was a liability and there wasn’t another chance. He stayed clean or he left New York.
We were all adopted by Vigo’s brother Lorenzo and he picked well. Each of us was in the system, orphaned, bounced from foster home to foster home because we were violent and troubled.
But he wasn’t just looking for bad-seed, young teenage boys. We’re all large, and we all have a special talent that makes us perfect for this life.
He took us in and turned us from delinquents to criminals. But he also encouraged us to be brothers.
We were his soldiers and soldiers do best when they are united.
But Lorenzo didn’t anticipate how fully we’d bond. No family, we became each other’s everything. Which means that when we told Rock he was out if he didn’t get himself under control, he knew the truth.
We weren’t doing it for ourselves, we were laying down the ultimatum for him. He needed us to be his strength. His guide. He’s been clean ever since.
Even if he is still fucking nuts.
As if he heard me thinking about him, he opens the door to my office.
It’s got to be two in the morning, and the club is in full swing. I hear the thumping of the music from the bar grow louder as he opens the door.
“Still here?” he asks as he closes the door behind him.
“I’m always here,” I answer back, jotting down the figures I’d been calculating. There are tax laws and guidelines that, if followed carefully, almost make certain we fly under the radar with the IRS.
“Knox was convinced you’d be upstairs or gone.” He sits in the worn chair on the other side of the desk, spreading out to completely fill the seat.
“Why would he think that?” Like I don’t know.
Rock shrugs. “Fucking the brains out of your cupcake.”
“Cupcake?”
“That’s what she looks like to me. Like one of those perfect little cupcakes you see in the window of a bakery. Too pretty to eat.”
“I like eating pretty things,” I say, sitting back in my chair as I toss my pen on the desk. “They’re extra delicious.”
“So why aren’t you eating her?”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “Despite what Knox thinks, I didn’t take her today to eat. I was proving a point to her father.”
Rock’s brows draw together, confusion marking his brow. “What point?”
“That once it’s mine, he doesn’t get to touch it again.” I start cracking the knuckles on my right hand. “Same is going to be true with the land. Once it’s mine, it’s mine. He needs to stay the fuck off it.”
Rock gives me a slow grin. “You are always thinking, brother.”
Rock is the muscle of our group. Along with Knox, of course. But Knox is an MMA fighter, we bring him in when we want someone majorly fucked up.
Rock, however, is exceptionally good at scaring the shit out of people with minor damage. It’s his unsteady nature. Freaks them out and with good reason. Occasionally he loses it and then he does massive damage. Death. Dismemberment.
I know that Rock has a good heart, even if he has killed a few men he wasn’t supposed to.
“I try,” I answer, scrubbing a hand down my face. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. I’ve normally done the count by now with all the money tucked away, but I’ve been having trouble concentrating today.
And I know tomorrow is going to be a busy day.
Promise’s clothes and goods will be delivered, along with a wedding dress, but we are going to tour the venue, looking like we’re in love while the press looks on to record the entire charade.
The photo ops are what her father wants. This is the other way I’ll help his campaign, I’ll help get rid of the story that he’s doing damage to his daughter by presenting a new story… Happy couple.
I’ve been asked to cover my tattoos, and I’ll oblige. My hair is also being trimmed up to look far less gangster and far more Upper East Side.
I move across the room, sliding over the cabinet that hides the safe, as I lock up the money from the drops.
Rock gets up and leans against the door, waiting for me to finish and put the cabinet back before he leaves the room.
I follow, making my way upstairs.
In the rooms that I pass, I can hear people fucking. Some of the doors are open and I can see fat old men sweating over the svelte bodies of the whores.
They moan obligingly, barely containing their bored expressions.
My lip curls. Some men don’t care, I guess. They just want to cum. But in rank order, I like innocence, and then enthusiastic participation, both of which make the orgasm better.
I reach the top landing, unlocking the apartment door and closing it behind me. I’m half tempted to sleep here.
But I want a decent shower in the morning, and I should probably tuck Promise into a different bed from me. At least for the next few nights.
I am a man who keeps my word. Always. I don’t have loads of ethics, but that is one of the few that I believe deeply should be upheld.
Crossing the apartment, I move into the bedroom. Even in the dark, I can see Promise on her side, sound asleep in the center of the bed.
My pulse ticks up, my tiredness forgotten.
She looks so perfectly fragile in the center of the large bed, her soft breath filling the space.
I nearly change my mind when she wakes with a jerk, her breath hitching, and her head coming up.
“It’s just me,” I murmur as I cross to the bed.
But she doesn’t lay her head back down. Instead, she stares at me with a wary gaze. With a long breath, I cross to the bed. “I’m tired, which is why I’m going to pick you up and take you to my car so we can go home.”
I don’t want to fight her, not now. She cocks her head, assessing me with a questioning gaze. Then she mouths the word, home.
I scrub a hand down my face. It will be her home, and I’m not sure I properly weighed that fact before I started down this path. “That’s right.” Then I pull the covers back and lift her into my arms.
Thankfully, she doesn’t protest, her body relaxed as I lift it to mine.
In fact, she loops her arms around my neck as her head settles on my chest.
What the actual fuck?
She’s back in her wool dress but her feet are bare. We’ll collect her heels tomorrow.
I carry her from the room, moving quickly down the stairs.
If she hears the cacophony of sex, she doesn’t respond, nor does she look, her face buried in my shoulder.
I head out the back door, nodding to Knox, who is smoking in the parking lot as I pass.
One of us tends to be outside, watching the lot in shifts. It’s where the worst shit happens.
He gives me a stiff nod back, even as I open the passenger door and duck in the car, setting Promise in the seat.
She slides her arms from around my neck, her chin tilting up to me as our eyes meet.
For the briefest second, I consider taking her right here, right now. But Knox would pitch a fucking fit, and I’d scare the shit out of Promise.
The fun would be over. But most of all…I would have gone back on my word. And that…I won’t do.
So I pull back out of the car and close the door, climbing into the driver’s seat. Axel has a fleet of sports cars. Today, he’s got an Aston Martin which is bad ass.
And Rock drives the kind of black SUV that blends into the crowd.
But me? I’ve got a luxury sedan. Still, it’s got plenty of get up and go, and I use it now, hitting the gas.
My place is in our territory, an old industrial building where I had the top floor converted into a luxury apartment.
I pull into the first floor that I’ve converted into a garage, parking between two of Axel’s toys.
I’m still tired but filled with the kind of restless energy that has me hopping out of the car and striding to the other side, pulling Promise from her seat and back into my arms. Could she walk to the elevator? Yes.
Do I want those pretty feet on the greasy stained floors?
No.
I like her pretty and clean but also…something sparks in the back of my brain at my need to protect her. This is a problem.
But I quickly push that thought back. I like her pretty. It’s for my pleasure that she has squeaky clean feet that are all pale skin and pink toes.
She folds into my body, but I can feel she’s more tense than she was before.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, the words out before I remember she won’t answer.
She shakes her head, her blonde hair brushing my arm.
“If you’re worried about where I live, I’ve had the place redone. You’ll be comfortable enough.”
She shakes her head again.
I’m too tired for guessing. “I’m dumping you in the guest room and then I’m going to bed. I’m fucking tired.”
She relaxes into me.
But a completely different thought hits me. Without words, there are no lies. Her body tells the truth.
I like it.